Bang on the Drum
by Green Bird
Summary: A drumming lesson with a cute guitarist. . . it has perks. Skids comes over to Cyan's house for a jam session. Slashy. Little Lime. Fuzzy feelings. It'll help you cope...


Title: Bang on the Drum  
  
Comic: Boy meets Boy  
  
Pairing: Skids/Cy  
  
Author: GreenBird  
  
Disclaimer: Sandra owns BmB. Sandra is a god. Go sacrifice bandwidth to her.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Note: Drumming lesson with a cute guitarist. . . it has perks. Shounen-ai-  
ish I don't mix the whole 'Skids loves Harley' thing in with this. . .  
I'd end up cross-eyed and drooling from lack of reason. Shounen-ai. Lime.  
Humor. Fluff. Whatever. Cy's POV.  
  
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Bang on the Drum  
  
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My garage is a mess of old dolls, clothes, and bottles. Not to mention the skyscrapers of cardboard boxes that were placed in a clever maze all about. Once upon I time I was suppose to clean it. . . and I did. Or at least, I cleaned a part of it. . . the corner where I'd put my old drum set.  
  
Now it really was hot all day outside. . . really, Diablo's armpit. And now that the day was cooling down I decided to retreat to my garage that, for some odd and unexplained reason, had remained cooler then outside.  
  
Absentmindedly I smacked around on the set, awaiting the arrival of my muse, who had called twenty minutes ago saying that he was dead lonely. I had to admit; I was too, which is sad since I live with my parents and a mess of sisters. I'd cleaned myself up; spiked my hair that had been killed in the noon's heat, washed my face, made sure I didn't stink. . . that is something to say for a day like this. If anyone else had been coming over, I wouldn't have given a damn. But this, this was my dios, and for him, I'd sparkle. (Which is good. . . Skids likes shiny things.)  
  
So, there I sat, on my old queasy stool, and hit away. I was fiercely determined to find a beat to play, and began to read through all the songs that Boy Band played through my head. Finding on that was agreeable; I started. I suppose that a day full of lethargy had made me sort of pent up with energy, so, by the time Skids appeared I was belting all out on the set. I don't even think I noticed him standing in the doorway, lack of guitar, watching me spaz.  
  
He cleared his throat loudly and I stopped and looked up alarmed.  
  
"Oh, hi Skids." Cute as ever. No smiley-face shirt today, flames instead. Shibby. "Say, weren't you bringing over your guitar?"  
  
"I hurt it." He smiled, rubbing his hands as if embarrassed. "I needed to bring it in for maintenance." Suddenly, like a kid with ADD, he switches subjects, eyes now watching me with interest. "Could you teach me to do that?"  
  
"To what? Make noise?" Cause that's what I had been doing. . . it started off as 'Running Blind' then it sort of progressed to 'Drumming Deaf'.  
  
"That wasn't noise! That was cool!" He's grinning so largely that his face looks to be consumed by teeth. "I want to learn!"  
  
"Skids I can't just teach you how to keep rhythm and multitask everything at once. I don't even know how I'd bother to explain it if I had too." I see a pout coming on. . . it's creeping into the far corners of his face and slowly beginning to pool up in his eyes. Those great big blue eyes. Damn it!  
  
"Fine then," I sigh, motioning for him to come around the set, "get over here and I'll see what I can do."  
  
"Yes!" He grins even larger then before and seems to do something of a wiggle of joy. Bounding over cords and around the junk of my garage like a deer he comes up to me and stares at the set, eyes simply shining in excitement.  
  
Then it happened. Before I could even get up to let him sit down on the stool he plops right down. . . on my lap. Whatever sound I made, it must have been surprising because he immediately got up again and blinked at me.  
  
"I'm sorry am I too heavy?"  
  
"No, no it's okay, you just surprised me. Sit back down." Yes yes yes sit back down pleeeaaase sit back down Skids. Sit. Sit. Sit.  
  
And so, he does, plopping right down on my lap, his right leg draping over mine so that he's almost straddling it. He sits there for a while and I don't pick up that he's waiting for me until he shifts a bit, one hand tapping the head of a drum.  
  
"Uh Cyan, are you gunna teach me or are we just gunna snuggle?"  
  
"Oh uh. . . let's see." I fumble with my sticks, trying to get one into my left hand by wrapping my right around his waist. Like an idiot I drop it and before I think of it, or rather, before I can stop myself, my hand reaches right down to pluck it back up again.  
  
"Whoa." Skids mutters. He can't help it, so he giggles, finding my choke of embarrassment wonderful. So my motor skills are now shot. Forgive me! I have this hot tipo sitting on my brain. How the hell am I going to manage to show him how to drum when I can't even keep my hands away from his crotch?!  
  
"Okay. . ." I try again, holding out the sticks for him to take. They're a bright neon green color, and I can tell he likes them by how fast he snatches them up. "Hold them like this." I cradle his wrists gently and tighten his fingers around the stick. I'm not exactly willing to release his hand yet, so I motion out parts of the set.  
  
"We've got the snare, the quads here and here, suspended cymbal hovering like a UFO, and the big boy; the bass drum."  
  
"Is that a cow bell?" He yanks my hand up to strike it, a dull clang lashing out.  
  
"Yeah, yeah that's a cow bell, even though we never really use it."  
  
"We should." He contemplates it for a moment. . . trying to think of a good reason to write in a cowbell. Attention is soon diverted to other things. "Show me a rhythm Cyan! Something we play."  
  
"Umm. . . how about 'Sister Fred'?" That was an old one. . . old but fairly simple.  
  
"Oh fun!" Why does he have to do the excited wiggle? Damn that wiggle.  
  
"Okay here." I start him off tapping the snare to the opening and, guiding his hands, bring him to the lyrics. He naturally starts singing along as we tap, letting me do all the real work.  
  
"I remember when we wrote this with Harley."  
  
"Yeah. . . we must have been hyper." Which was true, it was too late at night and Harls had decided to be noble and finish a song called 'Sister Pagan'. Skids decided to help, and with me backing him we fucked up the lyrics something bad. 'Sister Pagan' became 'Sister Fred' and from a rather reasonable song a slop of rhyming words emerged. It's still pretty popular with our small mess of fans, even if they don't have any idea what the hell it's saying.  
  
"Its great!" Then he just fully belts it out, getting me to somewhat sing along. There's a part coming up that's a bit difficult so I get him off the words long enough to survive until the end, which he decided to improvise by giving the cymbal a slap.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
He blinks once in thought turning on my lap so we can see each other. "'Simple Words.'"  
  
Aw not that. "Ummm. . ."  
  
"Oh come on it can't be that hard! I've been watching you! 'Simple Words' isn't hard!" He catches the pun before I do. "Simple is simple!"  
  
"It isn't hard because it's a quiet song."  
  
He's doing it again, that little begging 'you cannot deny me' face. He sticks his lower lip out.  
  
"Stick that back or I'll bite it off." I joke but he pushes it out further just for the hell of it. Then, splitting a grin he teasingly leans backward and. . . and bites my nose.  
  
"Hey!" I give him a hurt look because. . . well it did kinda hurt. I'd like for him to try it again just a bit lower, but he's staring intently at the set again, hands raised as if weapons.  
  
"I think I know how it starts. . ." He's muttering to himself, a look of sheer concentration plastered on. Oh hell, I'll help him.  
  
"One, two three. . ." Tap tap tap. . . This song is so boring! Harley wrote it when he was feeling fluffy and romantic one day and Skids was all for the happy fuzz-land that was associated with upbeat love songs. Switch drum. Pause. Argh! Boring!  
  
And suddenly I relize why he wanted to play this. . . he wanted to sing it.  
  
-"And I see you and I feel you and there's three simple words. . ."-  
  
Oh he's sounding like velvet! Damn it! I'm hardly keeping together just sitting here, but with him intently serenading me. . . how am I going to keep off of him?  
  
-"Simple words I want to say. . ."-  
  
Just go along with it. Pay attention to the music.  
  
-"And they're just so hard to mouth. . ."- He's into it now, singing softly but paying enough attention to hit when I'm directing him to. Unconsciously I start humming along and he elbows me.  
  
"Sing too Cya!"  
  
"Skids, why do you think I'm a drummer? I can't."  
  
"Oh shush. Come on. . ." He leans back and side glances me. -"I'm all choked up, all crazy for your look, that's how it is; it's my heart you took."- Okay so I'll sing along. -"You know just what you do to me. . ."-  
  
-"You drive me up a wall,"- I roll my eyes to that, isn't that the truth? - "But you're always standing next to me to catch me when I fall. You know how it all goes, you know just what I'll do, these three simple words I can't get out. . ."- I lean up to whisper it just in his ear, -"that I . . . love. . . you."-  
  
There's that sweet little symbol ring at the end and I put my hand over it to end the song. Skids is smiling softly in his usual euphoria and I'm a little frightened that he took the lyrics literally. Because. . . he was suppose to.  
  
I can't help give him a little grin although he can hardly see me. Slowly I feel him cuddle me a bit leaning back so I'm fighting to stay on my stool. Unwittingly I squeeze him in a little hug and tickle his sides. God he's cute when he giggles like that.  
  
"Alright you. . . one more thing and then we'll be done. . . I can't feel my legs."  
  
"Okay. . . how about a drum roll?! I've always wanted to do that. . . a big drum roll leading up to something climactic."  
  
Mmm. . . I like the sound of it. All right, I'll take a whack at it. I bring our wrists up to the rim of the snare. "Now don't go crazy or anything. . . but hit it and let the stick bounce."  
  
He does, first right, then left.  
  
"Alright, now faster. In that same rhythm."  
  
He double bounces a few times before he messes up.  
  
"It's okay keep going." I take my hands away from his and place them very lightly on his waist. I just know he's going to slip off my lap and put a foot through my bass. At least, I'm saying that now.  
  
He's got it now, must have had been watching me for a long time to know how to copy like that. I've got my chin up on his shoulder and I'm straining to see.  
  
"Okay, you can go faster now." And he does. "Harder." My foot reached down and I hit the bass. I lean into him just enough to pull my other set of sticks out of my pocket. Bringing my arms around I start a simple piece.  
  
This is awkward, but unbelievably fun. I'm not really realizing I'm bouncing him on my lap when I'm striking the bass until he shifts just enough. . .  
  
Whoa. Not good. Shift back! Shift back!  
  
I attempt to sit back just enough to move him more onto my thighs, but Skids is not light and there is no leeway space on this stool. Augh! I'll just have to finish off this drum roll and get him off of me as soon as possible.  
  
Like a stubborn kid told to go to bed, half of me is wailing: 'I don't wanna!' Tough stuff! If I don't get him off of me he'll figure out in a rather surprising way that I'm not as strait as I pride myself in being.  
  
Quickly as I can I start flicking the snare, telling him to finish it up. He doesn't protest and as fast as he can, which isn't very, he goes into a roll. I can tell he's having fun but I've lost all composure, even though I've stopped his lap-movement I can't. . . stay. . . calm.  
  
"Just do it Skids!"  
  
"Gladly."  
  
In a split milli-second of time he swivels his way about in my lap and brings his left hand up in a large arch to come crashing down on the suspended cymbal. And, at the same time, his mouth comes crashing down on my own.  
  
Now, I can't really register anything because quite frankly, when I had managed to realize just what was happening I went into cardiac arrest. Skids, my Skids, my lovely and hot and cute and innocent and unbelievable Skids was doing to me what I was pining to do to him for the past two years.  
  
And he was being quite passionate with it. I heard a drumstick hit the floor. I don't know if I was the one that make the sound but my sticks are long out of my hands. He tosses the one he used to smack the cymbal, and it ends up somewhere in the garage. Whatever. I don't care about anything except for what's in my lap and against my lips and I let him know this through a pleasant guttural moan.  
  
He's got a hand on my shoulder and one touching my neck. Somehow I've gotten my hands up and on his face. Ones cupping a rosy cheek and the other's pushing up on his hat, tipping it lopsided.  
  
Skids' leaning forward and I've got my back hitting the wall. He broke just away long enough for me to see his eyes shine above his flushed cheeks and I gasp in as much air as I can.  
  
"What- was- tha--?" The hand on my neck held a finger to my lips, bidding me to be quiet. He smiled so softly he's like a succubus, or rather, an incubus.  
  
"Something climactic."  
  
I know my eyes got huge and I know his smile turned into and all-out grin. I still had his face in my hands, I still had him so near so I guess it was more instinct when I pulled him back down onto my mouth again.  
  
Skids blinked once in confusion, and then I found myself in the best situation in my life. My deidad, sitting on my lap, wrapping himself around me and willingly returning my heated passions. And he was so cute about it! Shy little brushes of his tender tongue. . . but never anything too much. . . The sounds he was making! He was whining like a dog and petting me as if I were one.  
  
Oh I can't stand this! /IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoumySkidsmineminemine!/ Was the only thing I could manage at the time. And eagerly I open up my mouth to see what he'd do with this new option open.  
  
Shyness somehow managed to evaporate in the blink of an eye, and Skids, who suddenly now had a new surge of mojo, decided he was going to take a look. . . or rather, a taste. Now. . . It's nothing freakishly much, but he's prodding at my mouth very gently, almost testing. Nope, never felt like this when kissing someone before. Never felt his they were trying to take my soul out through my mouth. . . or however they always describe really good kisses.  
  
/ You'remineallminedontleavemealoneagainIneedyou./ Is the only real thing I can distinguish from the babble that my brain's giving off. /IneedyouIneedyou./ And I do. So much so that when he pulls away for a breath I almost panic.  
  
"Nono. . . Ineedyou." I slur, and I don't know how he heard it or even if he did, but he grins at me, this flushed and tussled guy in need of more; just like him.  
  
"I knew that." And he comes back again. Thank God.  
  
Now, I am unable to simply let him have all the fun, and gently I push him back into his own mouth. Oh wow. . . he tastes like bubblegum. That's cool. That's really cool. I'm not going to make it any deeper then how I am now. . . I don't want to choke him, or for that matter, freak him out. He's never really had a serious make-out session before so I don't think he knows what he's doing. Wait. . . what's this? Apparently he does know what he's doing. Who taught Skids how to do that? Whoever they are I'm going to thank them and then break their face in.  
  
He's using his hands now too. . . one petting my neck and hair and the other is firmly holding my shoulder against the wall. As if I was the one that needed to be held down! I've moved one of my hands as well, had it drift back down to his waist so I could wrap it around him. Wow. . . if I didn't know Skids like I did those solid muscles would be really intimidating. Suddenly, for once I wonder. . . who's in control of this again? Who started this?  
  
But, I suppose I am the one who ended it. My hand slipped. Simple enough, but my partner here is by far the most ticklish creature in the world. Skids twitched and squeaked and when I tried to put my hand back he squirmed in refusal to be tickled. That squirm did what my stool had been planning to do for some him now.  
  
Crash. The feet slipped out and both of us landed in a jumble of boy on the floor. Skids was just lucky enough to stay on my lap, although now I had to cradle his head and hold him up because he was simply lying across me.  
  
The first thing that Skids did was predictable. He stared laughing.  
  
"Oh wow that was fun!" He squealed, throwing an arm around my neck while the other one held my accused hand at bay.  
  
"Ouch." Well that was dumb to say. Think of something else. "Umm Skids. . ."  
  
"Yes?" He tipped his face at me in that puppy-like way that ha always manages.  
  
"Why?" Yes. . . much better. Forget the romantic dribble. . . let's interrogate him!  
  
He looked at me as if I had just asked the stupidest question in the world. "Why are you even asking Cyan? You know what one plus one is right?"  
  
Is this a trick question? This has to be. "Umm. . . two?"  
  
"Yeah, and, two is a lot less lonely then just two separate ones right?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
And that was the explanation for that. Two isn't lonely. Okay then. . . I can live with that.  
  
He draws close to me again and his face is still rosy and clouded. He's looking like he's the happiest person in the world right now. I think there's gotta be a mirror between us. There's a gentle peck to my lips and a squeeze of warm affection. I slip my arms around his waist again and when he laughs it isn't from being tickled.  
  
"What is it now?" I whisper as softly as I can to him, kissing the shell of his ear.  
  
"Well," he purrs through small quakes of giggles, "I think I just found new meaning to banging on a drum."  
  
~* FIN *~  
  
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Alright my readers, I am glad to have you gotten through this. This means I love you.  
  
I am in love with the Cy/Skids romance that I make up. I want them together. . . badly. And who doesn't? BmB is fabulous. Skids is cute. Cyan is angsty. Those are the facts.  
  
Thank you my lovelies. If you have read then I would love if you reviewed, it makes me know that I'm not the only person that reads my fics.  
  
Ariagoto~ GreenBird 


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